It must be spring. The annual infestation of Coccinellidae (Lady Bugs) has begun inside my house. Just like baseball and the thawing of the local skating pond, it happens every year around this time. As plagues go, this one is pretty benign. In fact, I enjoy it. The only down-sides of a ladybug infestation is that we have to watch where we step, we have to set them upright when they flip onto their backs, and we have to clean up their carcasses when they die.

I don’t mind it when they alight on my keyboard when I’m trying to type. It’s an interesting game I play with them, either typing around the critters, avoiding the keys they’re sitting on, or giving them a gentle blow to nudge them on to the number keys.

Why are they called “ladybugs”? Half of them must be male. Sometimes they’re called “ladybirds” and sometimes “ladybeetles,” but always ladies. Legend has it that they are sent by the Virgin Mary to protect our crops. I’m skeptical. I don’t have any crops.

Alfred Hitchcock Presents

The May issue of Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine is available at fine bookstores near you. The cover features a tropical sunset with two tall palm trees, a welcome site here where my lawn is still hidden beneath several inches of snow.

The issue contains several twisted stories of scams and murder including “The Condo Commando” by Elaine Viets, Jack Ritchie’s “The Fabricator,” and Ron Goulart’s “The Case of the Extra Ventriloquist.”

But the first story in the issue, “Shanks Gets Killed,” is worthy of special attention. The author is none other than Criminal Brief’s own Robert Lopresti. If I can’t brag about it here, than what’s the point of it all?

“Shanks Get’s Killed” features the return of Rob’s novelist/sleuth Leopold Longshanks and his wife Cora. “Shanks” has grudgingly agreed to participate in a murder-mystery weekend as part of a fundraiser. The prize for the participant who correctly guesses the murderer is a first edition of Hammett’s The Maltese Falcon. The silver lining for Shanks is that he is to be the victim (hence the title), so after the opening ceremonies of the weekend, he gets to avoid the brouhaha. Of course, we all know about best-laid plans.

I was curious that a fundraiser would offer a Hammett first edition as a prize. Surely Lopresti, a librarian and a rare document detective would know that a first of The Maltese Falcon would be worth a fortune. With a little research, however, I learned that Rob’s proposition was a reasonable one. Sure, one online dealer is offering a copy for $136,000, but decent copies are available for under $5,000, and copies like the one Lopresti described in the story are going for around under $2,000.

Lopresti fills the story with clever bits that book lovers, and mystery fans in particular, will appreciate. One line that especially resonated with me was the observation that Shanks “read dead authors for pleasure. Living authors were market research.” I know that’s the truth for me. Although I always take pleasure reading the works of my friends.

In past installments of Bandersnatches I’ve written about my local coffee house, The Royal Bean. I recently learned that the woman on the MacBook who frequently sits at the next table is the author of an online advice column. I share this with you today because “Frannie” is not your typical Ann Landers, Dear Abby, or Hints from Heloise. Nosiree. These are hints from hell! In a recent letter , for example, when Wondering in MA wrote in complaining that another advice columnist never answered her question, Frannie responded:

Dear Wondering,

Advice columnists are often very beautiful and are really busy having a lot of sex. If you want your question to get noticed send money.

Yours, Frannie

In another letter , a certain Bula Van Ruskerhozen asked Frannie for a delicate way to get her husband to stop buying her sexy lingerie every time he returns from a business trip. Frannie answered:

Dear Bula,

Here’s what you do: Have his mom come visit for the weekend. Give her the bagful of practically new tackle as a gift and ask her to model it for you right when he’s getting home from work. Any man who catches a glimpse of his mom in sexy undies will never purchase lingerie again ever. He also my never get a hard on again, but that’s the risk you take.

See you in Acapulco, Frannie

Now I know why Frannie, sipping her skinny latté at the next table, is always laughing at her laptop.

I enjoyed reading about Frannie. One of my favorite columnists is Dear Mary in the Spectator, a rather upscale British magazine. People write to her about problems with guests staying at their country houses and damage to rare antiques and so on and her responses range from the devious to the bizarre. http://www.spectator.co.uk/archive/
I actually incorporated one in a story of mine (Shanks’ next, actually), so I’ll write more abou that when it appears.

Since Steve is not the first one to mention it, I’ll point out that the copy of the Falcon in the illustration is in better shape than the one I describe in my story. Reasonable for the sake o the picture, but it does make people wonder why such a beauty would have been donated.

In England the Ladybug is called “Our Lady’s Beetle” because “bug” is considered a vulgar word. At least I think that’s correct. (Hmmmm, the country that came up with “Up Pompeii” and the “Carry On” films still has Victorian mores…) Now, I gotta go and read my AHMM that’s been sitting on my desk for a week or so!

To think that my computer was in the shop for a tuneup (the wiseguy said it might work faster if I didn’t have 250 million things stored on it) so I had to wait until Saturday to read about Frannie. Where was she 30 years ago when her advice might have been more timely for me?
I agree with the praise for Rob’s story, but can’t help feeling that anyone who put Shanks through the events he endured must have a sadistic side.

I read Zoe Sharp’s comments on Murderati and was going to comment but couldn’t figure how to do it. The column reminded me of an evening at an MWA event in NYC thirty years ago. I was talking with Eleanor Sullivan, at that time editor of both AHMM andEQMM. This was at the time when Ken Follett’s “The Eye of the Needle” was at the top of both the book and movie charts. Follett walked up and said, “Eleanor, why won’t you ever buy one of the stories I send you?”
She laughed and told him to “Keep trying, Ken, keep trying.”
I have always believed this was the perfect conversation to mention when someone makes it appear that writing short stories is easier than writing novels.

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